A dream, Ziva and an epiphany
by xXBleeding-WingsXx
Summary: How did Tony's mom die? How did he get over her death? Maybe he didn't? Hinting of Tiva, but not much. First NCIS shot. it might not be good-it wrote it at 3 in the morning, but I just felt like posting! R&R


I _walk across the long strip of corridor. The only sound that could be heard is my feet on the beige carpet leading to the only room in the house I have never been in._

_I know something is wrong when I reach her bedroom door; it's too quiet, it's never quiet in there- not when she's in it._

_The doorknob is cold to touch. I'm scared to open it: what if it's a trick? I'm not supposed to go into her room, not ever. I turned the knob anyway; I wasn't in control of my body anymore._

_I nudge the door open, just a peep, but I don't look in- it could still be a trap._

'_Ok, Tony. If there is no noise after three seconds, it will be safe to go in,'_

_One,_

_My heart is pounding in my chest…_

_Two,_

_My hand still grips the knob…_

_Three,_

_I take a deep breath…_

_I slip my head through the crack and peak in._

_She's asleep! That's why it's so quiet!_

_But I know I'm lying to myself; my heart is sinking in my chest and bile is rising in my throat._

_She's so still, her body doesn't breath. _

_I walk closer to her. I don't want to, but I can't stop. I stand next to her bed and look at her grayish face._

_I stroke her beautiful hair behind her ear. Her body is cold and wrong. _

_I look into her eyes and I can tell that they don't see me, they see nothing now._

_Finally the bile doesn't stay in my throat- it's now in my mouth, and the last coherent thought that ran through my head before I passed out: I just threw up next to my mothers' dead body._

"Did you know you talk in your sleep, Tony?"

I knew that voice, I would know it anywhere.

"Morning, Ziva." I spoke it into the pillow, so it came out very muffled.

"What kind of dream were you having? You started counting! A big achievement for you!"

The same dream I have every night since I was eight- but I didn't say that to her.

"Oh, just trying to remember how many woman I had over last night!" I tried to joke, but it's way too early. I rolled over and gave her the best grin I could muster. It didn't feel right, and I'm sure it looked forced.

"It's a Saturday morning, why are you in bed alone? I was almost afraid to open the door, but I changed my mind when I realized it could be fun! But it's just you." With the last statement, she looked at me pointedly, almost confused.

Think, think, think!

My stupid brain came up with something equally as stupid: "I wanted to be alone."

It was true, last night- the anniversary of her death- I usually do spend by myself. It was the fact that Ziva knows me better than anyone which made me cuss myself that I didn't lie.

"Are you ill?" Of course that would be where her mind would go!

"No. But that's what you can tell people if they ask- I like my reputation… What are you doing here?"

"Are you changing the subject?"

"If I say 'yes', would you tell me why you broke into my house on a Saturday and woke me up?"

"Because Abby invited us for drink last night. I assumed, since you were not there that you would be here with a platter of woman."

"The term is 'an array', and I completely forgot about Abby! Was she upset I wasn't there?"

"McGee covered for you, said you had a last minute date with a woman and left in a hurry. He told me that if I were to see you, I should tell you 'he owes me lunch for lying to Abbs'"

"Thanks…Why are you looking at me like that?"

"There are three half empty bottles of alcohol in your kitchen and lounge. That and you look like crap! What's going on?"

"Other than my love for booze and very early wakeup call?"

"You were distracted the whole day yesterday. Your report was sloppy and you never went on and on that you were right about the killer."

"What? So now you get to berate me on my work? My report was as accurate as I could make it! And so what if I didn't annoy you and McGee? Why am I being told out by _you_ of all people?..."

I realized I was on my feet, my face in hers.

"Calm down. I didn't mean it like that!"

"It sure as hell didn't sound like it! Why is everyone always on my case? It's all your fault!"

"Tony? What's my fault?"

The atmosphere changed so quick it gave me whiplash.

Ziva's voice was soft and confused. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't even her conversation. It was what my father had screamed to me after they rolled my mother's body away. The police had asked him some questions, and it would be an understatement to say it got out of control.

The silence stretched out for what seemed hours.

"Tony? Are you ok?"

Was I ok? Was it normal after 25+ years that I still had dreams of her? That I could remember the exact words my father shouted at that officer? That I shouted them to Ziva?

The answer was always there: No.

I wasn't ok. I shouldn't dream of her every night. I shouldn't remember everything from that day- I can't even remember what I had for lunch last week! I sure as hell shouldn't have screamed at my partner!

It was like an epiphany. One that took 27 years to reach: I hadn't embraced and gotten over her death. I had seen dead bodies and accepted friends and family members' deaths, but hers was different.

My chest felt constricted and breathless, like it had all those years ago.

My breath came out in hiccups.

I curled into a ball on the floor, my back pressed against my bed.

"Tony. It's ok. You're ok! Just breathe. In, Out." Ziva sat next to me. Put her arms around me. Whispered into my ears. I didn't understand a word she said, but it was rhythmical and soothing.

"In…" I breathed in. "Out…" I breathed out.

It went on for a while; I wasn't sure how long, but I was quiet sure it was more than 30 minutes.

My epiphany: "She's dead, Ziva. She really is dead."

"Who, Tony?"

"My mother, she's dead!"

"Hasn't she been gone since you were a child?"

I just nodded. I couldn't admit it out loud, but Ziva didn't say anything; she didn't judge me, she didn't say anything, she just held me and whispered nothing in my ear.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want some lunch? It's late, almost two."

"No, just stay here, please?"

"Ok."


End file.
